A few months ago when my husband told me he wanted to ride his Harley to Laughlin for some biker thing called River Run, I said, “Okay.”
“I’ll be gone for four nights,” he clarified, looking me intently in the eye.
“That’s fine. I don’t care,” I said, because I didn’t care. I mean what’s not to love about having the entire house to myself for four days straight? “Just stay out of trouble,” I added, because it seemed like an important thing to add.
“Are you sure?” he asked, still studying my face for signs of what, I don’t know.
“Yes! Go! And have fun!” I demanded, and I meant it, too. I did! If he wanted to take a few days to get away, I had no problem with that. I think everybody should be able to take a few days and get away. It does a marriage good. Once again I reminded him, “Just stay out of trouble!” Not that he would get into any trouble, he’s not a troublemaker, but lord knows I didn’t want to have to load my son into the mommy mobile and drive down there to save him.
All of this talk about getting away reminds me of a quick four-day Carnival Cruise trip I took to Mexico out of Florida with an old boyfriend many years ago. I’ll never forget sitting at the dinner table surrounded by three other couples we had just met. We were all the same age – in our late twenties. When I happened to mention that I was a flight attendant, one of the wives said, “I always wanted to be a flight attendant. It sounds like a lot of fun.”
Before I could tell her that it was, indeed, a lot of fun, she added, looking longingly at the man sitting beside her, “But I really can’t imagine being away from my husband for more than a night. How do you do it?”
I just smiled. There was nothing else to say.
Flight attendants are an eccentric bunch. There’s no doubt about it, we’ve got all kinds working for the airlines. But if there’s one thing we all have in common, it’s the ability to be alone – for more than a night. And the ability to enjoy being alone. As well as allowing the ones we know and love a little space and time to themselves. So when my husband jumped on his bike and roared away, I didn’t resent him for doing so. Just the opposite. I was glad he could get away. He deserves to have a little fun now and then. Without me.
Yeah, that's me, the one standing in the aisle wearing flammable polyester...